Greyface
by megstiell
Summary: Just what would happen if the Avengers didn't exist? Loki on the Throne, a dark secret society and plenty of shadows. With no Avengers around to save the Earth, it's up to a young misfit and her siblings to play a deadly game of shadows with the God of Mischief.


Authors note: First ever fanfic, whoo! Feel free to review and leave comments/suggestions for improvement, constructive criticism is always helpful :3

Shadows are always dangerous.

Throughout the Nine Realms of the Universe, there have always been shadows. The ignored and the quiet, the lost and the lonely and the angry, all cast aside and forgotten simply because their ideas were different or their personalities were different or something about them was _different._ They rejected the notion of conforming to societies normalities and in place, substituted their own. Outcasts, some would call them.

Yet they understood the power and danger that came with the subtlety of being shadows. The power to restore balance to this hellhole of a world and exact revenge upon those who scorned upon them whilst bringing true justice to those who needed it; he rest of the world simply laughed.

Word passed around. Oaths were sworn. Training was undertook. And so it was that the Greyfaces were formed. The shadows of modern Midgardian society from all walks of life were took in and accepted by their own, a secret anonymous society of the most peaceful and intelligent yet dangerous individuals sworn to watch and restore balance, but never to unnecessarily interfere.

Time and time again the Greyfaces struck, decimating the reputations of the corrupt and greedy as the rest of the world watched and wondered how they could ever have though they could live so large and leave so little for the rest.

Yet despite the best efforts from the likes of the media, intelligence agencies and governments alike, none could uncover who the Greyfaces were. They infiltrated the banks, religion, governments and the media, hospitals and buisnesses too. The bullies of society shamed. The power-blinded highborns regarded them as dangerous; the lowly commons people as heroes yet such controversial methods meant many didn't know what to think.

To be a Greyface was to be powerful, and safe behind the knowledge you were a practically indestructible shadow.

And so it was when the King Loki arrived. The Silvertongue. The Harbinger of Ragnarok. God of Mischief, Trickery, Chaos, Lies, and Deceit. He came, he saw, and then he conquered and brought the world to their knees.

The world prayed that the Greyfaces would bring such a destructive monster down onto his knees and make him beg, beg and pray for mercy, as they had done so many times before to the large and the powerful and the unjust. They made a silent pact never to speak of the Greyfaces again. Never to speak, only to remember, so the King would remain blind to their power.

Such a large and flamboyant man who now held Midgard in the palm of his hands would surely never notice the shadows, would he?

And, for a while, the Greyfaces disappeared. As society dissolved so apparently did they. Greyfaces stopped, Greyfaces saw, and then the Greyfaces did what they did best.

They played the Game of Shadows.

May 8th, 2012. Washington DC.

The self-proclaimed King of Midgard sat drinking fine wine and eating the tastiest dishes this Realm had to offer him. Loki had had thousands of Michelin star cooks from across the world brought into the former residence of the USA's President to cater for him, and yet even Midgards' most established chefs could not even touch the standard of Asgardian dining.

The God scowled as a serving girl came scurrying forward, carrying a gold-plated dish piled high with lobster and all other manners of seafood with side dishes of caviar.

The wench, clearly terrified, set the glittering dish in front of King Loki with trembling hands before dropping into a quick curtsey and practically ran away from him. Scaring the Midgardians was one of Loki's favourite games to play, along with torturing them - and there were no shortage of victims; roughly 7 billion of them, to be precise.

"What is this?"

The Midgardians froze at the tone of his voice, and all talk ceased. They smelt danger, Loki knew, and that amused him greatly.

"You dare feed me this muck?" Loki dealt out a powerful backhand blow to the dish, sending meat and fish flying everywhere.

They spun around to face him with open mouths, apologies and courtesies stumbling from those pitifully stupid faces of theirs. Oh, how Loki wished he could spare both him and them their piteous mewls and stick his sceptre through their throats; Loki smirked as he imagined the bright crimson blood spurting out of their necks and pooling around their feet.

_Don't wish. Do. You are a King now. You do what you want,_ he reminded himself.

So that is exactly what Loki did.

The Greyfaces soon learned of this carnage, of how three of their own, along with four hundred and ninety seven other servants, had had their throats slit and bodies skinned for the King's amusement. Of course, their King made no effort to hide this. He cut the heads of the murdered from the bodies and impaled them on spikes, which were then publically displayed around the world; a warning of what would happen to those who dared cross him.

His bloodthirsty antics had earned him no favour points with both Midgard and the rest of the Realms; Loki was powerful, they knew. How, they knew not. Reports and rumours of a foreign alien army that kept Loki afloat were circling, yet whatever it was, it seemed the King was unstoppable.

_They needn't know it was just a game._ Loki didn't care who knew what he had done.

For the Shadows, this was the tipping point. Balance must be restored, and there was only one way to do that.

The King had to go.

July 2nd, 2012. London, UK.

A young Greyface walked down the freezing, icy streets of London, knee-deep in stark white snow. Squinting her green eyes, she surveyed her surroundings and sighed heavily_. This is wrong_. Snow, in the middle of summer? This was the Kings work, she was sure. Since the day he took up his bloody reign, the world had been suddenly and inexplicitly plunged into something that wasn't far short of an ice age. From the hottest continents of Africa, South America and Australia alike, no place was spared; it was unexplainable, the scientists agreed. Nothing could explain why and how the earth went to sleep warm and woke up freezing - well, nothing natural, at least. And King Loki was far from natural.

Just thinking about it made the Greyface shiver, and she instinctively pulled her woolly coat tighter around her body, ploughing her way through the snow a little faster.

_Don't think about it,_ she told herself. _You have your mission. Bring the King down. Play him at his own game. You are a shadow, toughen up._ But how could a shadow hide in a winter that was so light yet at the same time so explicably dark?

Greyface soon arrived at her destination; a wooden park bench. There she settled herself down on the cold wood, and waited.

_10:39 AM._ The girl checked her watch. Her meeting was scheduled for 11 minutes from now.

She waited.

_10:44 AM_. And waited.

_10:53 AM_. She waited some more.

"Late", Greyface muttered angrily under her breath. She wanted her mission briefing, and she wanted it now.

It was over ten minutes past their meeting time before fellow Greyface arrived. Older, dressed in a slick black suit with sharp features and going slightly bald, he wordlessly sunk down onto the bench and turned to face Greyface.

Studying his face, she recognised him as the disgraced Russian Scientist Tommy van Haugen, a brilliant German-born physicist who was also tasked with being deeply religious. His theories were initially some of the most ground-breaking yet, the first to suggest that Genesis could be real. That was, at least, until members of both the religious and scientific communities called for his downfall. Neither particularly liked the idea of mixing science and religion together. Haugen was shamed and silenced; his theories scrapped, ignored - but not before the rest of the world found out his name.

The young Greyface knew names didn't matter; neither did reputations. He was Greyface to her, and a Brother.

"Late," she proclaimed to him, raising her eyebrows.

"You know, you could keep your voice down," he murmured, staring straight ahead. "There could be spies everywhere. Loki has ways of knowing things, and don't I know it."

"Well, if we must pretend, at least look like you're happy to see me." She suddenly put her hand on his arm and smiled at him warmly, as so to prove her point.

He took her hint and followed suit accordingly, grinning and laughing as if the young Greyface had just said something amusing. "Oh sister, you don't know how pleased I _am_ to see you. After all," - his voice lowered slightly, his tone turned serious- "you are the chosen, little Greyface. The fate of the shadows is here, within you." He smiled sadly.

"And if I fail? What then, Greyface? How will we cope, when all hope is lost?"

"You cannot, and you will not." He laughed. "Have faith, young woman. The Heavenly Father God will be with you."

Greyface severely doubted that. The only God she had ever seen was a cruel murderer, sitting upon his forged throne and stuffing his face whilst the rest of the world decayed and starved and froze down to the bone.

"Gods are cruel tricks played by the universe upon us to lead us into submission, tricking us into hoping that some almighty power will save us. But they won't, and they don't. That's why we're here. No-ones going to help us, so we have to do it on our own. If anyone's going to get us out of this mess, it will be us. It had to be us."

The elder Greyface sighed and stayed silent. It was several minutes before he spoke again.

"So, um... how did you get in? To the Shadow society, I mean?" he inquired.

Greyface stiffened and let a curtain of wavy auburn hair fall around her face. "Oh. Um, you know. Drugs. Alcohol. Um, I guess I got in with the wrong crowd. I got low, I mean, *really* low. Guess that overdose didn't do what it said on the tin." She laughed half-heartedly. "Parents didn't want me. Said I was a disgrace to their reputations, so I got kicked out. They never really loved me anyway. My opinions were too different, they said. Couldn't conform to societies rules. I lived on the streets for a whole year before the Greyfaces found me. Took me in, trained me up, and here I am today. It feels good, you know, finally being with people who actually understand me for once. Feels like I'm actually doing something right."

Greyface looked up, only to find her companion studying at her intensely. Uncomfortable, she dropped her eyes again.

"No need to ask who you are, sir. What about you? What is your part in all this?"

Smiling, he replied "oh, don't worry. I have plenty to do. After all, someone must warn the King of the oncoming storm. One of us must be in the wreckage, sister."

With that, he reached for her hand and kissed it before silently pressing a USB stick no larger than Greyfaces' thumb into the palm of her hand. She prayed to the universe that no one had seen.

"It's untraceable," the senior Greyface whispered softly. "Nice meeting you, sister." One last kiss on the cheek, and he was gone.

Several minutes passed as Greyface sat silently, overwhelmed and slightly confused by what had just happened. She daren't look into her hand.

*It's untraceable,* he had whispered. Greyface grinned to herself, suddenly overcome by a burst of excited, nervous energy, and set off for home; it was all she could do to stop herself from sprinting.

She knew what she had to do. The USB would tell her everything.

July 31st, 2012. Washington DC.

Loki was still naked in bed when the man in the slick black suit arrived. He had a good mind to strip him of his guts for disturbing his sleep.

"And who exactly is this man? What does he want? Make him wait, I'm busy." With that, the King instantly dropped back to sleep.

Tommy van Haugen was kept waiting more than six hours before the King decided now he would see him. As he entered the room where the King was waiting, he kept his face a blank mask. Inside, though, he was harbouring an intense hatred for the monster in front of him.

"Kneel." The King demanded this to everyone. Tommy remembered when he had first arrived in Germany, and made them kneel before killing those who defied him.

Now, though, Tommy decided, probably wasn't the best time to get killed. He had a job to do, and so he knelt.

Loki smiled at his submission before allowing him to rise again. "You disturbed my sleep."

The man in front of him shifted uncomfortably. "My King, I beg for your forgiveness. I have an important message for you."

Cocking his head and grinning, Loki studied the man. "Surely no message is so important that my sleep has to be disturbed for it."

"I can assure you, my King, it is."

"It had better be. Your head would look rather lovely, I think, on the top of this White House."

A pause followed.

Tommy could sense the King was growing impatient. _God help me. Stay calm, Greyface. You have a job to do._

"There is a storm coming, My King. Tell me, what do you know of the Shadow society?" That had got him.

"A Shadow society, boy? My, that sounds awfully interesting." Loki smirked. "How do I join?"

"My King, this is no joke. The shadows. They plan a ... rebellion." Greyface coughed. "You aren't safe here."

The King rose to his feet, sceptre in hand, never taking his eyes off the stranger in the slick black suit. Slowly, silently, he paced towards the man.

"Let me tell you something, stranger. These shadows, they are nothing to me. I was raised in the shadows, in the shadow of my brother, moulded by them. They are merely the darkness, and the darkness does not bite if you know what is in it." Loki scoffed, and his face was dangerous. "They cannot touch me."

As the King spoke, the path which Tommy must take became increasingly clear to him. He had hoped it would not come to this, but he was more than prepared to die for the Greyfaces. "Ah, my King. You see, that is where you are wrong. Shadows are very dangerous, you understand? They can touch you. They will bring you down, see." He smiled.

"Who are you, boy? What gives you the authority to question _my _authority?" Loki raised the sceptre.

Tommy Greyface closed his eyes and relaxed. "The Greyfaces do, my King."

As Loki snarled and slammed his sceptre into the man's chest. Tommy dropped to his knees as he felt the blood trickle into his lungs. The pain was mind-blowing, yet in despite of it, Tommy smiled. His job was done.

_I will die a Greyface._


End file.
